


Life And Death, And Everything InBetween.

by av_potatogun



Series: The Curious Workings of Beau Living in Forks [1]
Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, F/M, Gen, M/M, Trans Male Character, Vampires, other stuff too i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21552766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/av_potatogun/pseuds/av_potatogun
Summary: [DISCONTINUED] put story notes as last chapterLife for an average high school age child of divorce sucks enough, add being queer and learning about all the gray areas between life and death, and you get Beau. Trying to finish high school in a small bigot filled town and learning about supernatural life.I decided to rewrite twilight as lgbtq+ and not as entrenched in general bigotry.
Series: The Curious Workings of Beau Living in Forks [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553206
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix. A cloudless, desert blue sky. I was wearing my favorite shirt, a sleeveless lace top. I was wearing it as a farewell gift, my carry-on was a parka.

My destination was a small town named Forks in the Olympic Peninsula in northwestern Washington. This town was under a near-constant cover of clouds. As such it rained more in this insignificant town than anywhere else in the United States. This town is where I was born. This town was where my mother escaped with me when I was a few months old. This was the town I felt compelled to spend a month every summer until I was thirteen, when I’d finally put my foot down. These past three years, Charlie, my dad, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead. This was the town I exiled myself, with much horror.

I hated the rain, the cold. I hated small towns, especially their narrow-mindedness. I _**detested**_ Forks.

I loved the heat, the blistering sun. I loved the vigorous bustling city, the societal freedom. I loved Phoenix.

“Beau, You don’t have to do this,” Renée, my mom, said to me- as she had a thousand times- before I boarded the plane.

She looks like me, with shorter hair and laugh lines. I felt a spasm of panic as I looked into her wide eyes. How could I leave her to fend for herself? Wait, Phil. Phil can take care of her, remind her of bills and food and get groceries. Can find her when she gets lost. Still…

“I want to go,” I lied, almost convincingly. 

“Tell Charlie I said hi.”

“I will.”

“I’ll see you soon. You can come home whenever you want- I’ll come right back as soon as you need me.”

I could see she meant it, but I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind it.

“Don’t worry about me. It’ll be great. I love you, Mom.” Then she pulled me into a tight hug for a minute, and the next I was boarding the plane and she was gone.

It’s a four hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour to Port Angeles, then an hour drive down to Forks. Then an appointment with my new doctor, Dr. Cullen, three hours after entering Forks. I wasn’t bothered by flying; my natural awkwardness screwing up my appointment, and the hour car ride with Charlie were another thing.

Charlie had been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him with any degree of permanence. He’d already gotten me registered for high school, gotten my medical files transferred, and was helping me get a car. 

But it was sure to be awkward with Charlie. Neither of us were what anyone would call verbose, and I didn’t know what to say regardless. I knew he was confused by my decision, like my mother, I never hid my distaste for Forks.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. Not an omen, just an inevitability. I’d already said goodbye to the sun.

Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser, as expected. He was the police chief of Forks, just another reason to want a car despite my scarcity of funds. No one wants to be driven to school in a police cruiser. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

He gave me an awkward one-armed hug when I stumbled off the plane.

“It’s good to see you, Beau.” He smiled as he automatically caught and steadied me. “You haven’t changed much. How’s Renée?”

“Mom’s fine. It’s good to see you, Dad.” I wasn’t allowed to call him Charlie to his face.

I only had a few bags. Arizona clothes were too permeable for Washington weather. My mom and I pooled our resources to upgrade my winter wardrobe, but still it was scanty. It all fit in the trunk of a police cruiser with ease.

“I found a good car for you, real cheap,” He announced when we were strapped in and on our way. 

“What kind of car?” I was suspicious of that wording, ‘good car for you’ as opposed to ‘good car.’

“Well, it’s a truck actually, a Chevy.”

“Where did you find it?”

“Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?” La Push is the tiny reservation on the coast.

“Vaguely.” He had three kids, I played with his youngest more.

“He used to go fishing with us during the summer,” Charlie prompted.

That would explain why I didn’t really remember him. I tend to block out painful memories.

“He’s in a wheelchair now,” Charlie continued when I didn’t respond, “So he can’t drive anymore and he offered to sell me his truck real cheap.”

“What year is it?” I could tell from his change in expression he was hoping I wouldn’t ask.

“Well, Billy’s done a lot of work on the engine- it’s only a few years old, really.”

He should know better than to think I’d give up that easily. “When did he buy it?”

“He bought it in 1994, I think.”

“Did he buy it new?”

“Well, no. I think it was new in the early seventies, or late sixties at the earliest,” He admitted sheepishly.

“Ch- Dad, I don’t know anything about cars. I can’t really afford a mechanic and I can’t fix it if something goes wrong…”

“Beau, the thing runs great. They don’t make ‘em like that anymore.” 

The thing, that has potential… as a nickname. I thought to myself.

“How cheap is cheap?” That I couldn’t compromise on.

“Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming and Christmas gift. Billy and Jake are coming over tomorrow and they're gonna leave it.” He looked sideways towards me with a hopeful expression.

Wow. Free. And I almost forgot tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Maybe I could cook dinner as a Christmas present.

“You didn’t need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car.”

“I don’t mind. I want you to be happy here.” He was looking ahead at the road when he said this. Charlie wasn’t comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. I inherited that from him. So I was looking straight ahead as I responded.

“That’s really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it.” No need to add that my being happy in Forks is an impossibility. He didn’t need to suffer along with me. And I never looked a free truck in the mouth – or engine.

“Well, now, you’re welcome,” he mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks.

We exchanged a few comments about the weather, which was wet, and then we came to the next big subject.

“You probably already know, your doctor here is Dr. Carlisle Cullen,” Charlie stated. “He’s a good man, with a nice family. When I got all your medical information transferred he called and said he would personally take you as a patient to keep small town rhetoric out of your medical business.”

That shocked me, most doctors I’d been to were all for small town rhetoric and denying the truth about me. Charlie must have seen the shock on my face, he started speaking again.

“He said he’s been a doctor for a long time, and when he saw your files he saw discrimmination based on personal beliefs. He said he wanted to fix the medical mistreatment.”

“Wow, I can’t believe that.” 

“He’s a really good man, could be making millions at some big shot hospital, but he chose to help us instead.”

Charlie talked some about the effects Dr. Cullen told him would happen on testosterone until I told him I’d done my own research. I knew all the effects even the ‘scary ones’ as Renée called them. I mentally braced for the speech about how I was too young to go through with this. Renée told me that everytime I tried.

“Beau.” Here it comes. “If you’re ready to go through this, I have you under my insurance now. Dr. Cullen said he can word it just so and have it covered.”

“Wait, really?” 

“What did you expect me to say,” Charlie asked. “I want my son to grow to be a happy adult. I’m not gonna stand in the way of what he needs to be happy.” Charlie stared at the road to avoid looking at me.

“Mom kept telling me I was too young for her to let me,” I admitted. Charlie doesn’t talk shit about Renée, but it still felt weird to tell him about her shortcomings in accepting me.

“She sees too much of herself in you. You’re basically an adult already, and you’re only sixteen.”  
We made some small talk before falling into an awkward silence. We stared out the windows.

It was beautiful, of course; I couldn’t deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves.

It was too green – an alien planet.

Eventually we made it to Charlie’s. He still lived in the small two bedroom house he’d bought with my mother during the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had- the early ones.

It only took one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around the window – these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a chromebook; secondhand technically. It was mine from school, Phoenix introducing them as part of the curriculum, Renée mailed it and reminded me to download skype. This was a stipulation from my mother, so that we could stay in touch easily. The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact.  
One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn’t hover. He left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape. I wasn’t in the mood to go on a real crying jag. I would save that for bedtime, when I would have to think about the coming morning.

When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror as I brushed through my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but already I looked sallower, unhealthy. My skin could be pretty – it was very clear, almost translucent-looking – but it all depended on color. I had no color here.  
Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. It wasn’t just physically that I’d never fit in. And if I couldn’t find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what were my chances here?

I didn’t relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn’t relate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with me, never on exactly the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain.

Charlie knocked on my door to remind me about my appointment. The ride to the hospital was short. I got checked in just fine, weighed and measured.

“Would you like your father in the room with you,” The nurse asked, not looking up.

“I’d prefer to be alone, if you don’t mind, Dad.” I looked over to him, worried. He didn’t seem to care though.

“Alright, we’ll be going then. Dr. Cullen will be with you in a moment.” They left together, the nurse talking about some gossip or another with Charlie.

There was a knock at the door, and then Dr. Cullen walked in. He was young, he was blond… and he was handsomer than any movie star I'd ever seen. He was pale, though, and tired-looking with circles under his eyes. This man definitely looked like he shouldn’t be in this small town.

“Hello Beau, are you ready to get started,” He asked, his voice kind, melodic. It was almost entrancing.

I kept getting lost and stumbling over myself in our conversation. I knew what I was talking about, but Dr. Cullen’s very presence seemed to disarm me and amplify my awkwardness. I felt like I was a newborn deer and my words were these legs I’d never used before. 

In the end, my awkwardness didn’t matter. He deemed me ready and stable enough to start hormone therapy. I got my first shot there during the same appointment and got all the follow-up appointments planned out. This appointment, this doctor, that was the best part of Forks. My excitement in getting where I wanted to be in life felt amazing, but didn’t stop the pain of moving there in the first place. 

I didn’t sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn’t fade into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added the pillow, too. But I couldn’t fall asleep until after midnight, when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle.

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here; it was like a cage.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He told me he’d be back later, and Billy and Jake would be over around six. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and examined his small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing was changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year’s. Those were embarrassing to look at – I would have to see what I could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here.

It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize Charlie had never gotten over my mother. It made me uncomfortable. I ended up leaving and wandering town, just to get away from that house. I saw people and teenagers who I’d assume would be my schoolmates in a few weeks, after the break. Most people stared, I was a new face, an outsider among them.  
I found my way to the grocer and to the hospital with relative ease. It was Tuesday, the 24th, and the only part of the hospital open was the emergency services. There wasn’t much for me to do, so I ended up back at the house.

I rummaged through Charlie’s cupboards and freezer before finding enough stuff to make an acceptable meal for four. For a single guy who couldn’t really cook, Charlie had a surprising amount of food to cook.

I didn’t realize how long I’d been cooking until I heard the cruiser pull up and realized it had gotten dark out. Everything was done and I was setting the table when Charlie walked in. 

“Wow, Beau. Did you go out and buy this,” He asked, staring at the dinner on the table.

“You had it all here, Dad.” He stared at me for a second, probably shocked.

“Billy and Jake will be here any minute, you’ll hear ‘em coming.” Charlie walked off to change out of his uniform. He was right, I heard a truck coming as he was opening his door back up. I was opening the front door when he finally came down.

“Beau!” Jake’s voice sounded like thunder when he yelled apparently. He looked fifteen, and had long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of his neck. His skin was beautiful, silky and russet-colored; his eyes were dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. he still had just a hint of childish roundness left around his chin. Altogether, a very pretty face. He wheeled his dad up into the house and pulled me into a hug. “How’s the weird book loving going?” 

I smiled at that. “Fine, how’s being the baby?”

He shoved me. After that, it was easy to get everyone to the table, apparently they were hungry.

“This is good Beau, what is it,” Billy asked politely. 

“Uh, honey garlic salmon, roasted green beans, and garlic roasted potatoes.” Bill nodded, and continued eating. 

“Beau, lets make a marriage pact,” Jake blurted out as we were finishing eating.

“W-what?” I could feel the blush creeping up my face.

“Your cooking is amazing and I love it. And I already know I’m never gonna get enough of it,” He smiled as he spoke. Both our dads still staring at him. He’s such an idiot.

“I’m glad you like my cooking, but when I marry someone, they aren’t gonna be a baby.” Sarcasm dripped from my voice, and his smile dropped as soon as I called him a baby.

We all ended up sitting around the living room, me cross-legged on the chair, Charlie and Jake on the couch, and Billy on the other side. Charlie and Billy were laughing and carrying on, and Jake was writing on a piece of paper he had asked my dad for. Occasionally he would shoot me a look before looking back at his paper.

I ended up reading a chapter or two of my weathered copy of Wuthering Heights, which I brought downstairs when I woke up. I’d taken my contacts out before I started cooking, so I was stuck with my ridiculous round glasses.

“Okay, I’m ready now,” Jake announced after a time, the paper folded up in his hand. 

“Are you sure? We can give you and your love letter more time, kid.” Charlie clapped a hand on Jake’s shoulder, smirking.

“It’s not a love letter, it’s a Christmas present. Beau cooked for us so it’s only right to give him a present.” Billy looked over at Jake who made a face.

I went to explain that I don’t really have anything for them, but they insisted dinner was more than enough. Charlie gave me the keys to the truck Jake had driven out, Billy gave me this cord bracelet that a friend of his made, and Jake gave me the paper.

Billy gave Jake some odd car part, and Jake gave him a necklace with a hand-carved wolf pendant. Charlie and Billy gave each other fishing stuff, and Jake gave Charlie a wood carved police badge. Charlie gave him a movie set of some shitty action movies and then said, “I’m not gonna give you permission to marry my son unless you two are together though, so don’t try proposing again.”

Jake and I groaned simultaneously and Billy and Charlie started laughing at us. We’ve had to deal with this since we were kids. Jake was never quiet about how taken he was with me.

The paper was this little note that said he wished we could reconnect, and gave me both his phone number and his email address. A bit overkill, but he was never one for subtlety. I entered his contact info in my moto, and on with the night we went.

We all hung out for a few hours, Jake explained the oddities of the truck, Billy and Charlie talked about fishing and baseball. 

When it was time for them to go, Jake pulled me in for a hug, and they were gone with Charlie. While Charlie was out, I cleaned up, and set to making plans for my room. I wasn’t feeling very creative, so I looked to Pinterest and Tumblr for inspiration. I wrote down some outlining plans, texted Jake a thanks for coming, texted Renée a happy holiday’s message, and lay down in bed.

I resolved that I shouldn’t cry myself to sleep every night, but even with that, I couldn't keep the tears at bay. Christmas is one of Renée's favorite holidays. She may be over the top and a young soul, but even with that Christmas and Halloween were the two holidays that she went over the top in celebration of. This was the first Christmas I wasn't celebrating with her.

Throughout the week break prior to school starting, I decorated my room, skyped Renée, and cooked. I had started to fall into a pattern, one I didn't particularly want to fall into. I almost felt like I was on house arrest. 

At least by the end of it my room looked like I lived in it, instead of just a random teenage room. I did a lot to the room; hung new curtains (that weren't see through), got a bookshelf that Charlie had stored in the basement, hung white christmas lights, and just got it to look like my own. 

The bookshelf was originally my grandparent’s, and Charlie couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it. His sentimentality for them and their stuff made me wish I had known them. I was four when they died, and the most I could remember was a few images of them smiling at me. If they hadn’t been as sick as they were, Charlie might have left with Renée and I, and our lives might be vastly different. 

Texting Jake had become a hilarious pastime, he constantly used ‘txt’ speak, and wrote about him and his friends doing dumb shit all break long. At one point Quil pranked a guy in the ‘gang’ that ran around the reserve and was on steroids. Jake and Embry tried to stop him, but he was adamant. He ended up in the water.

The day arrived that I was supposed to start school. First day as a sophomore in Forks. I was dreading it, the only new kid at a school with maybe 200 people. Phoenix had that many people in my class alone. There was no way I’d fit in anywhere. I was a sophomore in almost all junior classes, and on top of that, despite Charlie’s best efforts, I was sure that most people would immediately despise me for my ‘otherness,’ for everything I couldn’t help. 

I tried to push those thoughts from my head. Life wouldn’t work if I went to school holding back tears. I ate breakfast and wandered around, alone, for a bit. I ended up putting another book in my bag. Then, I headed towards the door. 

I didn’t want to be too early to school, but I couldn’t stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket – which had the feel of a biohazard suit – and headed out into the rain.


	2. Chapter 2

It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the leaves by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn’t pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn’t expected.

Finding the school wasn’t difficult, though I’d never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn’t see its size at first. Where was the feel of the institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors?

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading FRONT OFFICE. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door.

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I’d hoped. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn’t enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed.

The red-haired woman looked up. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Beaufort Swan,” I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Queer son of the Chief’s flighty ex-wife, come home at last.

“Of course,” she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. “I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school.” She brought several sheets to the counter to show me.

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could.  
When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home I’d lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn’t draw attention to me.

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn’t have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn’t stand out, I noticed with relief.

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black “3” was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door.

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn’t be a standout here.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name – not an encouraging response – and of course I flushed tomato red. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Brontë, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I’d already read everything. That was comforting… and boring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

“You’re Beaufort Swan, aren’t you?” He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.

“Beau,” I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me.

“Where’s your next class?” he asked.

I had to check in my bag. “Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six.”

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes.

“I’m headed toward building four, I could show you the way…”

Definitely over-helpful. “I’m Eric,” he added.

I smiled tentatively. “Thanks.”

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn’t getting paranoid.

“So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?” he asked.

“Very.”

“It doesn’t rain much there, does it?”

“Three or four times a year.”

“Wow, what must that be like?” he wondered.

“Sunny,” I told him.

“You don’t look very tan.”

“My mother is part albino.”

He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds and a sense of humor didn’t mix. A few months of this and I’d forget how to use sarcasm.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

“Well, good luck,” he said as I touched the handle. “Maybe we’ll have some other classes together.” He sounded hopeful.

I smiled at him vaguely and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat.

After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never needed the map.  
One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn’t remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. I didn’t try to keep up.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them. They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren’t talking, and they weren’t eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren’t gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention.

They didn’t look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big – muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes – purplish, bruise like shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular. Weird, Dr. Cullen had a similar look, though his eyes were lighter.

But all this is not why I couldn’t look away.

I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. I had thought it was just Dr. Cullen who looked like that. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful – maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy.

They were all looking away – away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray – unopened soda, unbitten apple – and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer’s step, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging.

“Who are they?” I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I’d forgotten.

As she looked up to see who I meant – though already knowing, probably, from my tone – suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the boyish one, the youngest, perhaps. He looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine.

He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest – it was as if she had called his name, and he’d looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did.

“That’s Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife.” She said this under her breath.

I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers.

His mouth was moving very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet I felt he was speaking quietly to them.

Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had. But maybe that was in vogue here – small town names? I finally remembered that my neighbor was called Jessica, a perfectly common name. There were two girls named Jessica in my History class back home.

“They are… very nice-looking.” I struggled with the conspicuous understatement.

“Yes!” Jessica agreed with another giggle. “They’re all together though – Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together.” Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought critically, probably not accepting of anyone. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip.

“Which ones are the Cullens?” I asked. “They don’t look related….”

“Oh, they’re not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They’re all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins – the blondes – and they’re foster children.”

“They look a little old for foster children.”

“They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they’ve been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She’s their aunt or something like that.”

“That’s really kind of nice – for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they’re so young and everything.”

“I guess so,” Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn’t like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. “I think that Mrs. Cullen can’t have any kids, though,” she added, as if that lessened their kindness.

Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat.

“Have they always lived in Forks?” I asked. Surely I would have noticed them on one of my summers here.

“No,” she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like me. “They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska.”

I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn’t the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard.  
As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet  
expectation.

“Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?” I asked. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today – he had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again.

“That’s Edward. He’s gorgeous, of course, but don’t waste your time. He doesn’t date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him.” She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when he’d turned her down. I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was turned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were noticeably graceful – even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. The one named Edward didn’t look at me again.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I’d been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was shy, too.

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a blacktopped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen by his unusual hair, sitting next to that single open seat.

As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face – it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled.

I’d noticed that his eyes were black – coal black.

Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by him, bewildered by the antagonistic stare he’d given me.

I didn’t look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odor. I let my hair fall over the right side of my face, making a dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher.

Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I’d already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down.

I couldn’t stop myself from peeking occasionally through the screen of my hair at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his light skin. He wasn’t nearly as slight as he’d looked next to his burly brother.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight fist to loosen? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn’t breathing. What was wrong with him? Was this his normal behavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica’s bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I’d thought. It couldn’t have anything to do with me. He didn’t know me.

I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose – he was much taller than I’d thought – his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It wasn’t fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.

“Aren’t you Beaufort Swan?” a male voice asked.

I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn’t think I smelled bad.

“Beau,” I corrected him, with a smile.

“I’m Mike.”

“Hi, Mike.”

“Do you need any help finding your next class?”

“I’m headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it.”

“That’s my next class, too.” He seemed thrilled, though it wasn’t that big of a coincidence in a school this small.

We walked to class together; he was a chatterer – he supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. He’d lived in California till he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class also. He was the nicest person I’d met today.

But as we were entering the gym, he asked, “So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I’ve never seen him act like that.”

I cringed. So I wasn’t the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn’t Edward Cullen’s usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.

“Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?” I asked artlessly.

“Yes,” he said. “He looked like he was in pain or something.”

“I don’t know,” I responded. “I never spoke to him.”

“He’s a weird guy.” Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. “If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you.”

I smiled at him before walking through the singular locker room door. He was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn’t enough to ease my irritation.

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn’t make me dress down for today’s class. At home, only two years of P.E. were required, I thought I was halfway done. Here, P.E. was mandatory all four years. Forks was literally my personal hell on Earth.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained – and inflicted – playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated.

The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself.

When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized again that tousled bronze hair. He didn’t appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.

He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time – any other time.

I just couldn’t believe that this was about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me. It’s not like he knew anything about me, unless he didn’t want to be sitting next to me cause of my identity. I figured people here would be more obvious in their bigotry, but maybe the title kid of the police chief scared them.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Edward Cullen’s back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me – his face was absurdly handsome – with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist.

“Never mind, then,” he said hastily in a voice like velvet. “I can see that it’s impossible. Thank you so much for your help.”

And he turned on his heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.

I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip.

“How did your first day go, dear?” the receptionist asked maternally.

“Fine,” I lied, my voice weak. She didn’t look convinced.

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life. I headed back to Charlie’s house, fighting tears the whole way there.


	3. Story Points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am no longer in the right mindset to be writing this fanfic, however I felt it best that I place my ideas down for others to use if they so choose. If I do end up revisiting this fic it will be as a complete rewrite anyway.

Main Protagonist of Twilight Saga, but as a trans guy.   
Beaufort “Beau” Goeffrey Swan  
Born: September 13, 1997  
16 at the start instead of 17 cause that timeline is way too close originally  
Needs glasses, wears blue contacts, but also has large round glasses  
5’4  
Shaggy brown hair  
Wears baggy clothes- jeans, sweaters, baggy shirts, flannel, hoodies  
Has Acer Chromebook and a Moto X, no social media outside of a tumblr  
Came out at 10 (year 2008) around the beginning of the year in an awkward and matter of fact way.  
Renée was very confused and didn’t know what to do, but she tried to talk to him and understand.  
Cue an after school phone call with Charlie where the three of them talk and Beau announces everything and asks if he could be renamed by both of his parents.  
So the name Beaufort Goeffrey Swan came about. He laughed about how everyone was gonna call him handsome now instead of beautiful cause names.  
Charlie didn’t understand at all, but after the talk with Beau he was just happy that Beau felt comfortable telling him  
He explained to Billy who said something about Beau being strong for him to come out so young. That helped him accept everything.  
He managed to get his name changed in 2009  
He couldn’t get puberty blockers or testosterone in Arizona, but his dad set an appointment up with Dr. Cullen after he got to Forks  
Like half the reason to go to Forks was his dad’s more casual and rampant acceptance  
Dr. Cullen prescribes T and eventually is the surgeon to operate on Beau.  
Very comfortable with his sexuality  
Like that kid is a disaster bi and cool as a cucumber about it  
Not like he’s even ever really been interested in anyone  
Beau comes to Forks December 23rd 2013, with his appointment the same day, a few hours after his flight.  
He lands at 12 or something and his appointment is at 4  
Spends winter break fixing up room and planning out rest of high school with some help from Charlie  
Who really just wants his son to visit him at least.  
He spends just about all of winter break inside, hiding from the cold  
Billy and Jake come over for Christmas  
Beau cooks instead of gifting cause didn’t have anything. Billy gives him a leather cord bracelet, Jake gives him a ‘letter,’ it says “hey lets be friends” and his phone number. Charlie gifts him the truck.  
Starts school Thursday, Jan. 2nd  
All that Edward and New Kid bs with the added fun takes place between then and Jan 22nd with the added fun of transphobia and misgendering from queerphobic small town (mild cause can’t outright hurt police chiefs kid)  
Edward has like a whole ass identity crisis, cause he’s never acted on his ‘more sinful’ thoughts (bitch is a whole internalized mess of homophobia and bi ass)  
He only believes these thoughts are bad when he’s having them cause he hates himself and has some issues separating his own sexuality and the faith he was raised with  
He also hears all the negative asshole thoughts from the small town bigots  
He becomes ridiculously protective of Beau. Like he wants to shield him from every negative thought.  
He does end up verbally attacking someone who calls Beau by feminine pronouns and called him by a few slurs  
He sees in Mike’s mind just how ferocious Beau can be when he watched a few gym classes with peeps being asses  
Jan 22nd the car accident happens.  
Carlisle already knows Beau and treats him as one of his regular clients, which throws Edward through a loop.  
Tyler Crowley, who was indifferent/ mildly bigotted towards Beau, decides to be ridiculously accepting to make up for nearly killing him.  
Even the way he asks Beau out, he makes sure to acknowledge that he is a guy asking another guy out.  
This pisses Edward off, but he couldn’t quite figure it out at first.  
?????????  
James uses a video of a middle school play instead, but he does use the dance studio.  
Jake and Beau are kinda friends, texting/emailing a lot  
Jake thinks Beau’s crush on Edward is hilarious  
A lot of their messages is Jake teasing  
First Fic ends same/similar to 1st book  
Beau has a broken leg, they dance together at prom  
New Moon until Beau finds out Jake is a big wolf boy will be similar/same


End file.
